


Cerise and the Beasts

by hoodhollow



Series: Storybook College of Art and Design [2]
Category: Ever After High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoodhollow/pseuds/hoodhollow
Summary: You’d think seven cats, none of them black, might turn out to be good luck or whatever. That’s a thing, right?It isn’t. It really, really, isn’t.
Relationships: Kitty Cheshire & Cerise Hood
Series: Storybook College of Art and Design [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938043
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Cerise and the Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the winter break following Listen to Our Hearts, but can be read on its own.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Ashlynn apologized for the third time, lifting the last carrier off the back of Hunter’s pickup. “No one is here for break and I really didn’t have anywhere else to take them…”

Cerise shrugged around a somewhat precarious stack of various bins and bowls. With the dormitories closed, most students returned home, and even the ones who lived off-campus often took advantage of their unusually long break. She herself was down three housemates, which at least left plenty of room for her new guests. “No big deal,” she said.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get away before classes start…the other owners know to come here instead of my house…”

Cerise followed Ashlynn inside, maneuvering around the large bags of food that had been left by the stairs. She dumped her cargo onto the coffee table to sort out later.

“I think that’s everything,” Ashlynn said, looking around anxiously. “You can call me if you have any questions, but I’m not sure how busy I’ll be—”

“It’ll be fine,” Cerise said.

Ashlynn fretted a bit longer, sighed over her step-sister’s impulsive choice of wedding dates, and apologized one more time before taking her leave.

Alone, Cerise stared at the pet carriers lined up on the living room floor.

Seven cats stared back.

*

Cerise had no idea how to take care of one cat, let alone seven.

They’d had two weeks at Ashlynn’s to acclimate to each other, so they probably wouldn’t fight, and they were all litter-box trained, thank the Lord and everything holy. But, didn’t they need chew toys or something? Yard time? Although the weather reports said rain for the next forever. Letting them out was probably a bad idea.

But man, keeping them in the house was…not ideal? The cats didn’t seem to have any kind of grasp on guest etiquette and Cerise was already suffering for it. The first night, one of them had treed itself on top of a bookshelf and meowed loudly until she’d gotten out of bed to retrieve it. The next morning, she’d woken up to find three separate rolls of toilet paper decorating the ground floor in shreds, with no indication of remorse from the still-unidentified guilty party.

And now, well. Cerise glared at the cat—blue-gray, with severe stripes and black socks—that had just jumped onto the counter. “No,” she said firmly.

The cat flicked its tail. Cerise hunched over the container she’d pulled from the microwave, which held the last of her Thanksgiving leftovers. The cat stepped closer.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, reaching warily for a fork. “You have your own dinner.” Utensil in hand, she backed out of the kitchen. The cat watched her for a moment with calculating eyes, but didn’t pursue.

Foolishly, Cerise let her guard down for her trip to the table, which became one in a literal sense when the little monster dove purposefully under her feet. “Son of a—!”

She managed to save the stuffing, potatoes, and most of the turkey, at the cost of scorched fingertips. The rest thankfully missed the rug but ended up on the flagstone floor, where it was immediately claimed.

“Thief,” Cerise accused. She thought about putting the cat back in its carrier, just for a few hours, long enough to teach it about consequences for criminal behavior. But she had a feeling that failing to catch the cat would make it even more unruly, and didn’t want to take the risk. “I’ll remember this,” she said instead.

The cat looked up from the gravy puddle and gave a smug meow.

*

One week B.C. (Before Cats), Cerise’s parents had handed her the keys to the kingdom—or to the pizza parlor, at least. They were on a well-deserved vacation, and even though the new managerial duties were keeping her busy, Cerise found herself looking forward to the work. She actually knew what she was doing and the staff was capable of cleaning up their own messes, which was a nice change of pace from the cat situation. After a day of unsupervised havoc, she shuddered to think what awaited her at home.

“Cerise Hood,” said Kitty Cheshire, “fancy seeing you here.”

Speaking of havoc. “I live here,” Cerise said. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

Kitty grinned. “Just stopping by,” she said. “I need the pie bird.”

Cerise raised her eyebrows. Did anybody ever really _need_ the pie bird? But Kitty was here, and Maddie wouldn’t mind her borrowing it, and it’d probably be less trouble in the long run to just give her what she wanted. “Okay,” she said, stepping forward to unlock the door. Then it occurred to her to ask, “Kitty, you like cats, right?”

She pouted. “What, are you assuming that just because of my name?” she complained. “I can’t believe you’re judging me like that. Maybe I have cat-related trauma. Maybe I have identity-related trauma. You should be more sensitive.”

“Fine, sorry,” Cerise said, feeling harassed. “Stay outside if you hate them so much.”

“Don’t oppress me,” Kitty said, trailing her into the foyer.

Cerise sighed and led the way to the living room, flicking the lights on to be greeted by fourteen overturned food and water bowls. She sighed again. “The baking stuff is all next to the oven. I’m gonna get the broom.”

“And a mop!” Kitty called.

“We only have a Swiffer,” Cerise grumbled. “Just throw a dishtowel on it.”

By the time she’d wrestled past all the junk under the stairs, the bowls had been righted and were well on their way to being refilled. Kitty, of course, had been bullshitting for the hell of it and was great with cats. “And who’s this sweetheart?” she asked, putting down the water pitcher as one of them batted at her ankle.

Cerise wasn’t sure. The cat was short-haired and sort of a pale gold, the color of sand. It should have been a no-brainer, since one of the carriers was labeled Sandy, but Sandy had a brother who was identical in every way except one, and Cerise certainly wasn’t getting close enough to check, so…

“Sandy Griffin?”

Kitty looked up with a tiny smirk tugging up the corner of her lips. “Sandy Griffin,” she repeated.

“Sandy or Griffin,” Cerise said, feeling ridiculous. “They…look the same. One’s a girl,” she added, as if that was any kind of defense.

Kitty lifted the cat up with enviable ease. “Not this one.”

“Griffin, then.” Not that it would make a difference in the long run, with the entire pack scampering around the house and getting all mixed up again. There was only one cat she could identify reliably, and only because it was true what they said about troublemakers being memorable. The blue-gray demon answered to Carrie and Cerise could only assume it had been named for the Stephen King book.

(Was pack the word for a bunch of cats? Did a word for that even exist? Cerise didn’t think so, since she was of the opinion that cats shouldn’t come in collectives in the first place. Exhibit A, the mess she was currently cleaning.)

Kitty had abandoned the pitcher entirely to give her full attention to the horde that surrounded her, petting ears and laughing as the cats rubbed up against her sides. Cerise left them to it and dug the pie bird out of one of the cabinets, turning the glazed ceramic over in her fingers. Its little avian neck was stretched to full extension, beak open in an infinite scream.

“Trust me, buddy,” she muttered. “You have it easy.”

*

Cerise had never spent so long away from her family before. She’d only moved out at the beginning of the school year, and even then she’d seen her dad at school and her mom at work. It didn’t help that the house, usually filled with the sounds of Raven’s study music, Cedar talking to herself, and Maddie, was now weirdly quiet. Unless the cats were getting into something they shouldn’t (unfortunately, time spent in the new environment didn’t calm them down _that_ much), they preferred to sneak around and pop out unexpectedly to scare the living bejeezus out of her.

She got a Spotify trial to drown out the buzzing lightbulbs and the cars passing down the road, only to discover that her guests had wildly different tastes in music. Drake liked country; Adelita adored pop; Carrie hated both with a spitting fury. All of them loved the sounds of nature a little too much, pouncing on anything that moved whenever birdsong played.

Cerise was distracted from the increasing futility of her quest by her phone alert. She lowered the volume and played Raven’s Snapchat of waiting in line at a build-your-own-pizza chain. _I have been tested and found wanting,_ the caption read.

 _Traitor_ , Cerise typed. _Torches and pitchforks_

Raven Snapped back: _I’m so hungryy_

Cerise took an unimpressed selfie and didn’t notice Rascal the tuxedo cat licking the speakers in the background until Raven sent back the screenshot with the addition of a distressed emoji, hands clapped to its face in fear.

 _Don’t worry your stuff is safe,_ Cerise sent. She’d closed off the third floor entirely, which left one less room for the cat hair to settle. There would be a hell of a vacuuming job to do after break. _Question for the expert: what genre of music can everyone agree on?_

 _Elevator muzak,_ Raven replied, _everyone hates it,_ before she reached the front of the line and had to get off her phone. It wasn’t the solution Cerise had hoped for, but it did give her an idea. She turned on the classical station, which definitely wasn’t her jam but neither was it upsetting enough for any of the cats to throw a tantrum about. The very definition of compromise—maybe they’d learn to get along after all.

*

Apparently Cerise could not be trusted with her feline dependents, because Kitty’s visits came too frequently to be entirely nonchalant. One day she arrived bearing two dozen eggs that needed pawning off before they expired; the next, she was looking for her hat. Every time, she stayed at least an hour playing with the cats, taking over feeding duties if the timing worked out.

“Kitty,” Cerise said on the fourth such visit, “if you care so much, why aren’t the cats at your house?”

“And deprive you of their company?” Kitty asked with a grin.

Cerise sighed. “Just…come in before they get out.” Emboldened by familiarity, the creatures were now testing the boundaries of their territory. Ashlynn had warned her that even an outdoor cat might get lost, or find its way home to wait in vain for its owner. Cerise didn’t want that on her conscience, so these days she was careful about doors.

Kitty slipped inside and made a beeline for the living room, trailed by every cat that had gathered at the open door. Cerise took advantage of this sudden deference to buckle down in the kitchen and cook ahead for the next week.

She hadn’t expected to need this kind of meal prep over the break; no classes or homework meant more time and energy to make food every day. Regrettably, the kitchen lacked a door to keep out the cats, and in fact had a pass-through window cut over the sink, which made the small space feel less cramped but also meant that Cerise had to defend food safety on two fronts. Having Kitty as a distraction freed her from chasing animals off the counter with hands covered in flour or other things.

“Griffin, no.” Kitty was on the ball today, scooping up the cat only moments after he jumped onto the ledge. Cerise decided to wrap up some scones for her to take.

It was relaxing to bake, chop, and hard-boil—Kitty had given her a _lot_ of eggs—without interruption. Glancing occasionally through the window, Cerise could keep an eye on her many guests as they hunted laser dots and batted around stuffed mice. Before she knew it, all her food was boxed up in the refrigerator and Kitty was preparing to make her exit.

“Sure you got everything?” Cerise asked, standing in the foyer as Kitty pulled on her jacket.

“Yes, Mother,” Kitty said sweetly, tucking the scone package into her purse.

“Really.” Cerise went and got the gloves Kitty had left on the couch, tossing them down the hall with eyebrows raised in challenge. Kitty caught them and put them on, seemingly unbothered by losing the pretext for her next visit. “Just skip the excuses next time? I don’t care why you’re here as long as you don’t break anything.”

“I’m taking over your TV tomorrow,” Kitty ignored her cheerfully, unlocking the door and skillfully blocking Carrie’s escape with her ankle. “My Netflix account is out of screens.”

“Fine,” Cerise rolled her eyes. She should have known it would be impossible to separate Kitty from drama—at least Netflix was a _good_ excuse. Maybe tomorrow she’d deign to help with the litter boxes, too.

*

“So I went to this café Justine said her sister recommended—”

Cerise leaned back in her chair, adjusting her screen for the glare, and added another mark to her mental tally. If she’d taken shots, as she’d jokingly considered at the start of the call, she’d probably have lost her ability to count that high.

“—for an authentic experience, but their breakfast menu is all pastries. No eggs, bacon, sausage, anything. Apparently you get coffee, fruit, and one piece of bread—how’s _that_ supposed to last you until lunch?” Ramona complained. The video chat froze for a second, losing several frames before catching up to itself.

“Weird,” Cerise said. “How are you going to survive?”

Ramona lived on one of the satellite campuses, close enough to come home for breaks. This year, though, she was in France, supposedly for extra language immersion before her quarter studying abroad. Cerise, on her part, suspected Ramona might have an ulterior motive in spending time with a certain classmate she couldn’t stop talking about. But whatever the case, managing the time difference meant this was the first time they’d been able to exchange live conversation.

“Eat three breakfasts,” Ramona said, straight-faced. “At least until the meal plan starts.”

Cerise snickered.

“Well, what’s up with you? How’s the restaurant?” Ramona’s gaze shifted sideways. “You got a dog?” she asked.

Cerise didn’t even have to look. “It’s not a dog, it’s a—”

“You got a _cat_?” Ramona demanded. “ _You_ got a cat? You hate cats.”

“I’m cat-sitting,” Cerise corrected irritably. “One of my friends had a last-minute emergency.”

There was hiss, then a yowl. Cerise turned to see Carrie crouched on her pillow, claws out, swiping at Adelita. “Damn it you two.” It was an illegitimate claim to territory and Cerise responded by shooing them both off the bed. Carrie made a neat leap onto the nightstand; Adelita darted out the open door, followed by one of the Sandy Griffins, who had apparently been hiding behind the curtains.

“Holy shit, how many of those things do you _have_?” Ramona asked with badly disguised glee.

“Too many,” Cerise grumbled, reaching for Carrie again. The cat lunged, and Cerise recoiled. It flew past her and scrabbled across her desk. “Out of my room, cat!”

Carrie, being Carrie, failed to comply.

Three scratches and several minutes later, Ramona sent a text: _You signed out? What gives?_

 _Cat closed the laptop and won’t get off the lid._ Then a photo, showing the scratches on her hand with a baleful Carrie in the background.

Ramona’s return text contained twenty-two laughing-crying emojis. When Cerise’s Facetime request went through, the first thing she showed the camera was a single finger.

*

If Ramona’s time zone was a roadblock to communication, a vacation cruise combined time zones, tour schedules, and the lack of signals on the open ocean for a full-on obstacle course. Cerise was happy to wake up at an ungodly hour to wish her parents a Merry Christmas; she was less happy when the resulting nap was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“What,” she grumbled, upon finding Kitty on the step.

“Meow-ry Christmas to you too.” Kitty grinned.

Cerise closed the door.

Another knock. “Come on, where’s your holiday spirit?” Something rattled, metal against metal. “I brought presents for the cats. Are you really going to deprive them like that? I didn’t take you for a Grinch.” Kitty paused, then started singing. “ _You’re a mean one…_ ”

Not exactly your standard caroler. _Amateur_ was probably the kindest description. Cerise reluctantly took the path of least resistance and let her in.

The presents, it turned out, were cans of cat food. Supposedly they were gourmet, but Cerise couldn’t say how. The cats certainly seemed to like it, though. They’d come running as soon as Kitty had cracked open the first can—Rascal had even taken a flying leap _through_ the gaps in the second floor stairs, nearly giving Cerise a heart attack. Kitty had to physically hold Carrie, the first to finish, back from going after the others’ bowls.

“So your idea of holiday spirit is sowing chaos?” Cerise asked from her spot on the couch. Clipper wandered over and hopped onto the adjacent cushion. Cerise kept a wary eye out and readily turned it around when it tried to claim her lap. “No,” she ordered.

“Aw, he likes you,” Kitty cooed.

“Last time he stabbed me,” Cerise corrected. She’d been minding her own business when the largest and fluffiest cat of the pack had draped itself across her legs, and repaid her petting it by digging claws through her sweatpants. It was a stark reminder of why Cerise was firmly a dog person.

“Like I said!”

How was that supposed to signify affection? Cats were ridiculous.

“Come on, cheer up! I got you something too.” Kitty tossed her a reusable tote bag, covered in cartoon penguins. She’d used it to carry the cat food, but it wasn’t empty yet—Cerise felt something rolling around as she caught it.

“What is it?” she asked, suspicious.

Kitty said earnestly, “A surprise!”

Cerise sighed and looked in the bag. Then she frowned and reached inside.

“Tada!” Kitty said, with jazz hands.

It was a lint roller. It wasn’t even wrapped.

“Wow,” Cerise said flatly. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know,” Kitty said, “especially since you didn’t get me anything, did you? Admit it. You forgot. How could you do that?”

“You asshole,” Cerise said, even though she was smiling. Okay, it was a cheap checkout-line copout of a gift, but she couldn’t deny its practicality. Clipper alone shed like crazy, and then add six others… Her work uniform had been living in plastic for weeks.

“ _I’m_ the asshole? You’re the one who forgot my present!”

*

It was the Sunday after New Year’s, the last day before winter quarter started. Students were filling the streets again, settling back in, tracking down textbooks, and retrieving pets from their sitters. Drake and Adelita were already gone, picked up the night before. Even with the majority still in place, Cerise felt a sense of relief. The ordeal was finally coming to an end.

Kitty showed up around lunchtime. Cerise traded her a homemade burger in exchange for convincing the remaining cats into carriers, which Kitty managed insultingly quickly. She left Carrie out, but honestly, Cerise didn’t blame her for putting that one off. All the comings-and-goings had put the blue-gray cat in the sort of temper that ought to come with warning signs. Maybe its owner knew how to handle it safely.

Poppy O’Hair came to get Clipper. Ashlynn collected Sandy and Griffin, as well as the surplus food and litter supplies. A girl who Cerise had never met before introduced herself as Nina and left with Rascal.

And then there was one.

“Let’s go, Carrolloo,” Kitty said, and the striped devil-beast jumped happily into her arms.

“Of course that one belongs to you,” Cerise said, rolling her eyes. And what kind of a name was Carrolloo anyw—

Wait.

“Kitty, you were here all break wHY COULDN’T YOU TAKE CARE OF YOUR OWN DAMN CAT?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Bunny was staying with Kitty while the dorms were closed over break but she’s allergic to cats so Kitty had to give up her beloved Carrolloo Blue Cheshire for six weeks. She just chose to let Cerise think she was trolling because she didn’t want to admit to any kind of altruism.
> 
> Too bad, because if she’d just come clean she and Cerise could have swapped guests and everyone would have been happier for it.
> 
> Final cat list:  
> Carrie/Carrolloo (Kitty)  
> Sandy (Ashlynn)  
> Griffin (Hunter)  
> Adelita (Rosabella)  
> Clipper (Holly)  
> Drake (Hopper)  
> Rascal (Nina Thumbell)
> 
> [Pie bird](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/72/Chickenpie1.JPG/1024px-Chickenpie1.JPG)


End file.
